HP: Transmigrating as an Obscurial

Dumbledore descended the floating red carpet at a steady pace. When his eyes fell upon the waterfall gate rising in the distance, the smile on his face softened, growing thoughtful.

"To station goblins and half-giant security... it seems the Department of Mysteries has truly lost something of great importance," he murmured.

He turned to glance at the phoenix beside him. "Fawkes, you've done your part getting me aboard the ship. Go on — take yourself a proper rest."

Fawkes, hovering midair, tilted his head, a faint note of curiosity or doubt in his eyes.

"I'm afraid you won't get far this time. After all..." Dumbledore's smile twitched knowingly. "They're still traveling. But something tells me you may need to find him again soon."

Fawkes gave a soft, musical trill and flapped his wings once. With a sweep of firelight and feathers, he soared into the sky and vanished into the clouds.

Once the phoenix had disappeared, Dumbledore took out a slip of parchment. After checking it briefly, his body was immediately drawn into a swirling vortex of magic.

When the vortex released him, he landed gently in a bright sitting room. The paper in his hand burned away the instant he arrived.

The floor was laid in pale natural wood, with hand-woven linen rugs stretching softly beneath his feet. The whitewashed walls shimmered faintly, crisp and clean as newly fallen snow. Smoothly crafted wooden chairs, complete with tailored cushions, lined the room with quiet elegance.

The centerpiece of the room — a half-round reception table carved from polished oak — was topped with a generous arrangement of glittering glass bowls filled with every kind of candy.

From one side of the room, a silent man approached and greeted him with a formal nod. "Mr. Dumbledore. I'm grateful you've taken the time to come."

Regardless of country, every Department of Mysteries across the wizarding world maintained its own internal authority — free even from the oversight of its respective Minister for Magic. Those who worked inside were rarely known by name and never spoke of their duties. They were called simply Unspeakables.

Unless they died, they carried their secrets to the grave.

Dumbledore extended his hand with a mild smile. "The more effort that's gone into summoning me here, the more I suspect this matter is... far from simple."

"You may call me Bjorn," the Unspeakable replied, his expression grave. "Shall we begin immediately?"

Dumbledore nodded and took a seat, selecting a candy from the table as he settled in. "I've always known Swedish Aurors to be admirably swift. But to see them this rattled... well, it seems even they were caught off guard."

Bjorn looked momentarily uncomfortable. He cleared his throat, then leaned forward. "Mr. Dumbledore, since you've already signed the magical confidentiality agreement, allow me to be direct."

He lowered his voice. "As you were briefed, what was lost is the Eye of Odin."

Dumbledore's hand paused over the bowl of sweets. His expression grew sharp with interest.

Bjorn continued, "The Eye of Odin is the reason for the Aurors' immediate mobilization. It allows for short-range divination. With it, we often initiate ambushes before threats even fully form."

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "So you use limited divination to gain a strategic edge. Anticipate outcomes. Strike early."

He leaned back slightly, Gellert used similar practices when he commanded the Alliance. Though, of course, far more elegantly.

Bjorn gestured toward a thick file on the table. "The British Department of Mysteries possesses something comparable, though broader in scope. As I understand it, it focuses on recorded prophecies — those tied to true Seers. Less practical. Less precise. But global."

"Yes," Dumbledore murmured. "The Hall of Prophecy collects them. But vague visions aren't nearly as actionable as tactical divination."

Bjorn nodded. "That's where the Eye of Odin differs. Its predictions are small-scale, but sharp. Real-world occurrences, not grand destiny."

Dumbledore lowered his gaze to a set of photos and notes on the table. "You're certain it hasn't left Sweden?"

"The Eye is bound," Bjorn said firmly. "If it crosses the Swedish border, it will automatically return to the Ministry — one of our oldest safeguards."

He unrolled several parchment documents and slid them across the table. "Furthermore, if it's used again, we'll be able to trace its exact location."

Dumbledore scanned the pages in silence. Bjorn exhaled and added quietly, "The real problem, Mr. Dumbledore... is that the Eye hasn't responded at all. No signal. No surge. It's as if it's gone entirely dormant."

He pressed his fingers to his temple. "Which puts us in an extremely passive position. We don't know where it is — or who has it."

Dumbledore finished skimming the final document and folded his hands thoughtfully. "Whoever took the Eye of Odin... seems intimately familiar with its function. Have you considered the possibility of an insider?"

Bjorn replied firmly, "Impossible. All our Unspeakables were thoroughly investigated and required to pass through the Thief's Downfall. None showed signs of madness."

Dumbledore gave a slight nod. As someone who had signed the same magical confidentiality contract, he understood exactly what Bjorn meant by madness.

It was the built-in punishment of the contract — an unbreakable failsafe. Even he could not escape it without time and rest to recover. The absence of symptoms meant the Unspeakables hadn't rebelled. The implication was clear:

A third party was involved.

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed, fingers still interlaced. "Whoever it is, they're playing a game. With you. And that... is a worrying development."

He tapped one of the notes. "There's a mention here of Gungnir's Spear, but no elaboration. You don't seem as concerned about that."

Bjorn hesitated briefly before answering, "Gungnir holds many mysteries, but most of its practical secrets have already been deciphered and integrated."

"It behaves like a wand — an immensely powerful one. It can summon lightning, channel thunder, direct flowing water... Spells like Aguamenti and early weather charms were developed from studying it."

He lowered his voice slightly. "But to unlock its deeper secrets, we would need something far more ancient — primordial magic. That's why our current focus is on recovering the Eye of Odin."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, his tone wry. "I seem to have stumbled upon a rather astonishing truth. Might you be willing to tell me more about this... primordial magic?"

Bjorn's face became solemn. "It is the deepest, most closely guarded secret of every Department of Mysteries. The final frontier of magical understanding."

"Every magical artifact in our vaults — every one — draws on a fraction of its power. Those that resonate with primordial magic consistently perform beyond known magical laws."

He paused. "This magic is ancient. So ancient, it predates wandlore itself. Some speculate it traces back to the dawn of wizardkind. And yet... almost no one alive can wield it. You understand what I'm saying, Mr. Dumbledore?"

Dumbledore blinked slowly. "I've looked into the records. A wizard who could use it surfaced briefly at Hogwarts."

Bjorn's face lit up. "At Hogwarts? That makes sense — it's one of the oldest gatherings of magical talent in the world."

Dumbledore continued, ignoring the comment, "Considering — if that person still walks among us — they've hidden their trail exceedingly well."

He leaned forward, voice dropping. "Which makes me wonder... how is it that you know so much about it? Has someone with this power appeared here in your Department?"

Bjorn met his gaze. "Yes. You're right."

"The Department of Mysteries — ours and others — has existed far longer than the Ministries they now report to. You likely already suspected that."

"Of course," Dumbledore said softly. "It predates the Ministry of Magic... and even the old Wizards' Council."

Bjorn nodded. "That's because the original founders of every Department of Mysteries were not ordinary wizards. They were users of primordial magic. They created these institutions not to control others — but to understand the very foundation of magic itself."

Dumbledore's eyes finally flickered with true surprise. "So that's why your Department operates above political oversight... why it holds such power..."

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Have you found anything about ancient groups or societies tied to the same source? They might hold more pieces of the puzzle."

"We're already searching," Bjorn confirmed. "We've reached out not only to England's Department of Mysteries but also to others across Europe. Requests for collaboration have been sent."

Dumbledore nodded. "Good. That's a start."

Bjorn stood and picked up a small folder. "Mr. Dumbledore, let's begin. If this continues any longer, the Swedish Ministry may take more drastic measures."

He handed Dumbledore a few photographs — one showed a pale corpse, clearly male, his skin marred by wand burns.

"This body was discovered recently. There were traces of the Imperius Curse — and evidence that his hair had been trimmed using a Severing Charm."

"Polyjuice Potion," Dumbledore muttered as he stood. "Will the Ministry allow me to examine the body directly?"

"For now," Bjorn said with a resigned shrug. "But if we delay another day or two, they may grow less cooperative. Truthfully, we've shared little with them either."

Dumbledore stroked his beard, piecing the situation together. The Department of Mysteries, by virtue of its secrecy, couldn't fully inform the Ministry. As a result, the Swedish authorities were fumbling in the dark.

The loss of the Eye of Odin had left them like a ship without a compass — unable to identify the true perpetrator. In desperation, they'd called in Newt, hoping to track down the Obscurus tied to the attack.

Another Obscurus... Dumbledore shook his head faintly.

"Still chasing Obscuri... Newt, I hope you haven't lost your edge."

He turned and followed Bjorn out of the reception chamber, his cloak sweeping softly behind him.

--------------------------------------------------

Note: I have decided to call Grindelwald's group the Alliance and refer to it's members as saints.

Please comment and send Powerstones

Support my Patreon @ patreon.com/LuxRadium for additional chapters ahead of latest in WebNovel